MY DILAPIDATED MUSE

Sometime's pooping's like giving birth,
In each case you lessen your girth.
I adopted a plant and named her Big Knockers,
I hope she grows up to play for the Knickerbockers.

Viral pestilent flatulent friend,
Don't grow up,
There is no Childhood's End.

I will wear your black Heather,
For the jealousy of a white one's torn pom poms,
Wrinkled in the time of your pruney ass.
For the jealousy of a yellow one's torn egg roll,
In the heart of Pakistani cab drivers everywhere 
Lurks demonic socialist garter belt fetishes.

She gave up her little green turtle for adoption,
Only to stalk it in hope of Turtle Borscht.
I dub you owner of my Aunt Myrtle,
Even her sagging tatas are included in the deal.

Tongue in cheek has a really disgusting meaning,
I won't forgive you for your Piazza beaning,
Your look of sarcasm is so demeaning,
Lick a pimple and a dimple and make your skull go careening,

Underneath the bunker where they fuck like Blue Meenies,
Over the fire where they elevate their weenies,
Inside her hairy temple, where she demands a Beenie,
After your wet dream in which you mounted Shirley Feeney,

Slap, come alive and enter your abandoned morass,
Blue-Diapered snipers,
Buck shot vipers,
Lies dripping in green jealousy,
Perver the enduring truths of John Wilkes Booth.

Never found a pork bun in a Chinatown phone booth,
Dripping as sweetly as your misty scent.
Rent me an oscillated fiber, 
brushed against your nipples in the night so deep and dark,
Strewn with the news of my dilapidated muse.

{POETRY}